I Will Never Let You Down
by CrystallineMaple
Summary: The start of a new school year brings many opportunities. Gilbert finds himself drawn to one of his classmates, Mathias can't help trying to impress Lukas while keeping his jealousy to a minimum, and Antonio wants nothing more than for Lovino to accept him. How will things work out amidst all the drama and confusion of high school? PruCan, DenNor, Spamano, more.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi, guys! This story will contain many side pairings (I'll try to update this intro when everything is established, for the ease of new readers), most of which will probably develop later on. The major arcs will definitely be PruCan, DenNor, and Spamano_ — _so if you don't like those, don't be disappointed! Anyway, please enjoy this first chapter and let me know if you would like to see me continue!  
_

* * *

The bell rang just as Gilbert Beilschmidt ducked into first period. He took an empty seat quickly, barely avoiding being marked late—that would be embarrassing, considering it was the very first day—and pulled out his notebook.

"You made it," Antonio whispered. The cheery-eyed Spaniard was sitting in the desk to Gilbert's right, and Gilbert grinned at his friend. "Hey, Toni. Been a while."

" _So_ long," Antonio laughed back, well aware that they had grabbed frozen yogurt together the previous day. "Can't believe summer's over already."

"That makes two of us," Gilbert said. "Eleventh grade, though. Damn, we're old."

Antonio laughed again. "Sixteen. This is the age when we're supposed to be overthrowing dystopian governments, right? Starting rebellions? Rioting in the streets?"

" _You're_ a riot," replied Gilbert with a sigh. For the first time, he looked around the classroom. Okay, it was Advanced Placement Psychology (which meant Gilbert actually had to pay attention), but it wasn't like there were a ton of options for distractions in the class. Sure, Antonio was in there, but Gilbert wasn't very close with anyone else. Maybe Elizaveta, but she was all the way on the other side of the room.

Gilbert groaned inwardly, marking his name in his textbook and pulling out a pen. _Three cheers for yet another year of school,_ he thought, rolling his eyes and leaning his cheek on his hand.

* * *

"No, no, I promise you'll like this one!"

"Shut up."

"What does a nosy pepper do? Get jalapeño business!"

"Oh. My. God. Mathias, I swear, if you don't quit with these awful puns—"

"Awful? I think they're great!" Mathias Køhler pretended to sulk. "I get no respect around here."

Berwald rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his sandwich. Lukas shook his head in disgust. "Honestly, I don't know why I was kind of looking forward to this. I didn't miss you at all."

Mathias placed a hand on his heart. "Ouch! That's so mean, Lukas. C'mon. Berwald, you missed me, right?"

The Swede grunted. "Not really."

The three friends were eating lunch together in their usual spot from the previous year—on one of the picnic tables in the school's courtyard. The place was pretty overgrown with plants, and it was also in a more abandoned part of the school, meaning very few people ever came to it. Not that many students even knew of its existence, so it was a nice place to eat if you knew about it.

"So, how was your summer?" Berwald asked Mathias and Lukas.

"It was pretty good," Lukas said. "Went back to Norway with my family. Emil got sick halfway through, though. Miserable little kid. Mathias?"

"Went to the beach for the last week," Mathias chimed in. "It was pretty... _sun-_ sational."

Berwald exhaled loudly, and Lukas shot Mathias a death glare. "Okay, Mathias. Okay. That's the last time we'll ever ask about your life."

Mathias just laughed his loud, obnoxious-yet-infectious laugh, his bright blue eyes sparkling. "Aw. Hey, Berwald, did you ever getcha some over the summer?"

"Excuse me?" Berwald snapped, twisting the cap off his water bottle and glaring at his fellow Scandinavian.

"I think he's talking about Tino," Lukas said. Mathias knew Lukas well enough to detect a hint of a smirk in the Norwegian's voice. They were both well aware of Berwald's feelings about Tino Väinämöinen, the blond Finnish kid in the grade below them. Just the mention of the name made Berwald's face flush slightly.

Berwald huffed, bailing himself out by taking a drink of water.

"What about you?" Mathias asked Lukas jokingly. To his immense surprise, Lukas said—with utter seriousness—"I did go for coffee a few times with someone..."

"Hmm?" Berwald raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Lukas shrugged nonchalantly, opening up a bag of chips. "It's not too much of a big deal." And, with a hint of maddening mysteriousness, he added, "Maybe you'll find out more later."

"Wow! We've got a charmer over here," Mathias exclaimed, laughing and patting Lukas on the back. (A little too sharply, as Lukas coughed on a chip and glared at Mathias again.)

Though Mathias was not happy about it at all, deep, deep down, he felt a bitter emotion beginning to form inside of his chest.

Jealousy.

* * *

Last class of the day. Matthew Williams walked into the chemistry room, already tired but quite optimistic for the upcoming school year. His spirits lifted even more when he saw the lab tables. They usually sat two students per table, but tables had been pushed together in pairs so that there were four students per group, and Matthew's friend Arthur Kirkland was already waving him over.

"Hello," Arthur said as Matthew sat down next to him. "First day, huh?"

"Yup. I'm tired. You?"

Arthur tapped his empty coffee cup. "I was..."

Matthew laughed. "How was your summer?"

"Pretty good. I mean, it certainly could have been better, but... I'm not Francis, at least."

"Francis?" Matthew asked. "I didn't have any classes with him today. Did something happen?"

Arthur lowered his voice. "Jeanne broke up with him."

Matthew cringed. "Ouch. He must be really upset about that, because—"

"Hey, bastards. Is anyone sitting here?" A rough voice interrupted the conversation.

"Oh!" Matthew jumped, looking up to see Lovino Vargas pointing at the seat across from him. "No, go ahead." Matthew didn't know Lovino that well. He knew Lovino's brother was supposedly very nice, and Lovino was supposedly... not. Still, Matthew smiled gently, which earned him a grunt from Lovino. About fifteen seconds later, Kiku Honda approached the empty seat next to Lovino. "May I sit here?"

"Sure," the three said in unison.

The bell rang, and the teacher began his resolute no-talking-in-class spiel, earning a quiet "Good Lord" from Arthur and a few more snorts from Lovino. Matthew watched Arthur pull out a sheet of notebook paper, scribble something on it, and slip it onto Matthew's side of the desk.

 _This guy's already driving me crazy..._

 _-Same,_ Matthew wrote back. _Anyway, have you talked to Francis lately?_

 _I had second period with him. He's crushed._

 _-That's really too bad. I'll try to call him this evening._

 _Yeah, he'd probably appreciate that._

Matthew frowned, pretending to listen to the teacher ramble as he and Arthur passed notes. Relationships seemed so painful! And they always ended messily. Why bother? Oh, well. Matthew knew he wouldn't be troubling himself with a relationship any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for your interest in this story! Oh, and another thing. If a character is speaking out loud and it's entirely in italics, that means they're speaking in a language other than English_ _—for example, their native language. I don't want to write the actual phrase in another language because I may get it wrong and because too many translation notes are always a pain, so this seems like an all right solution. I'll try to specify if it gets confusing.  
_

* * *

"Whoa! This is really good! What is this?"

Gilbert grinned. "They're brownies in a cup. You like?"

"Yeah! You'll have to give me the recipe for this." Antonio gripped the mug between his hands and stretched his shoulders, strongly resembling a cat. The two had gone to Gilbert's house after school to study the heavy AP Psych workload they were already getting. Gilbert was sitting at the kitchen table reading out terms, and Antonio sat on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs and responding with the correct definitions.

They'd invited Francis over, too, but he'd said something about wanting to be alone. Frankly, Gilbert and Antonio were both concerned. It was rare for Francis to be so pessimistic, and they knew it had something to do with Jeanne, even if Francis hadn't told either of them what exactly _had_ happened. Gilbert knew it had to be pretty bad, though. He and Antonio and Francis always snuck onto the roof of the school and ate lunch up there—even if it was technically not allowed, they had been doing it since their freshman year—but Francis had been too upset and left campus for lunch.

Gilbert sighed, flipping a page in the textbook. "You know, we need to get Francis with someone else. Maybe that'll calm him down."

"Someone else?" Antonio stabbed his brownies with his spoon. "Like who?"

"Hmm. Well, I don't know! Let me think about it. Now, define _acetylcholine._.."

"Ugh." Antonio hopped off the counter. "We've been studying for so long! Can't we take a break?"

"No! We need to study." Though Gilbert had a reputation for being a slacker, he was actually very hardworking and had high marks in all of his classes. But his resolve toppled when Antonio began to flash him the damned puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

Gilbert groaned.

Antonio came up behind Gilbert and wrapped his arms around his friend. _"Pleeease?"_

"Fine," Gilbert snapped, shouldering Antonio off. "Let's go stop by Francis'. He can't keep pouting."

"Thank you!" Antonio said happily, and Gilbert shook his head. Antonio was so touchy-feely with him that people often thought they were in a romantic relationship, even though that was far from the truth. They were just very, very close friends. Still, the trio was incomplete without Francis. Gilbert grabbed his car keys off the counter, and Antonio followed him, both ready to confront—or perhaps comfort—Francis.

* * *

 _"And she wasn't even nice about it!"_ Francis cried in French.

 _"I'm sorry..."_ Matthew rubbed Francis' shoulder, trying to calm him down. Though he couldn't possibly imagine Jeanne doing anything purposely spiteful, he knew better than to comment on that. As he'd promised Arthur, he had called Francis after school, but the Frenchman had been so upset Matthew had just walked over, since he didn't live that far away.

 _"Seeing her today in the halls was awful. Am I really too weak and emotional?"_

 _"What? No! Of course not."_

The doorbell rang, interrupting the conversation, and a few seconds later, Matthew heard pounding on the front door and accented shouting.

"Francis! Open up the door!"

"Yeah! We're not leaving till you let us in!"

Matthew thought he recognized the voices of Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. "I'll let them in, okay? They're here now, so I'll leave. Cheer up, Francis. You're a very strong person, no matter what anyone says." Matthew flashed Francis a smile and walked down the hall to let Gilbert and Antonio inside.

Surprise crossed both of their faces when they realized it wasn't a member of the Bonnefoy family opening the door, causing them to fall silent for a moment.

Antonio smiled. "Hello...! Is Francis here?" The ever-so-slight pause in his sentence made it clear the Spaniard did not know Matthew's name, though they obviously recognized each other.

"Yeah, he's in the living room. I'm headed out."

Antonio said a quick thank-you to Matthew, heading down the hallway before any more possible opportunities when it was necessary to use Matthew's name could arise, but Gilbert paused, looking at Matthew with a slightly strange expression on his face.

"Excuse me," Matthew said.

"Oh." Gilbert seemed to realized he was blocking the door and moved aside. He hesitated. "Hey, um... is Francis all right?"

Matthew looked back. "I think he'll be okay. Give it some time. You're close with him, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. Everyone knows that." Gilbert snorted, then froze in dread. That sounded so egotistical! Before he could apologize, Matthew shrugged and hurried out before Gilbert could say anything else to him. What a weird, vaguely douchey guy! Hopefully he'd left Francis in good hands.

* * *

"You're welcome! Thank you for coming!" Mathias smiled at the customer, handing them their coffee and placing their money in the register. When they walked away, he turned around, wiped his forehead, and tightened his apron. His parents owned a coffeehouse, which he spent most of his free time helping out in—whether he was taking orders, brewing the stuff, or just cleaning around, he absolutely loved the atmosphere of the little shop. He knew he was going to be the one to inherit it (of course, that was by choice: his parents would never force him to take it on when they retired, but they saw how much he loved it), and that thrilled him.

But he was _not_ so thrilled with his current predicament. Mathias pulled out the postcard Lukas had bought him in Norway. The picture on the front showed Oslo, covered in snow and looking like something out of a fantasy Christmas book. Mathias grabbed a thumbtack and pinned it to the wall behind the register, which had become a sort of traveling wall. Over the years, it had accumulated postcards, maps, plane tickets, and photos from all around the world.

Mathias swept the floor behind the counter, wondering who the hell Lukas could be seeing.

Speak of the devil—well, kind of. Lukas' stepbrother, Emil Steilsson, who was in the ninth grade, entered the coffeehouse at that moment. He slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out his wallet, and stepped up to the counter to order.

"Hey, Emil!" Mathias said, waving. "What do you want?"

Emil sighed, scanning over the blackboard menu hanging on the wall. Mathias smiled inwardly, knowing Emil and Lukas were pretty similar in the way they pretended to be so cold and emotionless. (Even if Lukas was better at it.)

"I'll have a caramel macchiato." He set a few dollars on the counter.

Mathias sang quietly while fixing up Emil's drink, then realized the little Icelandic twerp might have a few answers he needed (read: wanted). "So, Emil! How was your first day of... gosh, first day of high school?"

"Fine."

"Aw, come on, kid!" Mathias poured espresso over the drink.

"Okay, fine." Emil shifted his weight from foot to foot. "It was... all right, I guess. The school's kind of big, but I only got partially lost twice."

"Partially lost." Mathias' lips curled up in fondness. "Nice euphemism. How's Lukas?"

"You saw him today, didn't you?" Emil crossed his arms.

"Heard he's with someone."

A flicker of a grin actually crossed Emil's face, and he uncrossed his arms. "Mathias, is that what you're getting at?"

Mathias handed Emil the finished drink, blushing slightly. Had he been caught? "I don't know what you're talking about."

Emil took a painfully long sip of the macchiato, checked to make sure there were no customers waiting to order, and paused. His eyes flickered over the Oslo postcard Mathias had just tacked up. "You don't know what I'm talking about? Sure, sure. Mathias, every time you come to our house, I get this vibe... oh, hell. Why should I have to explain this? You know what I'm saying. You totally like my ice-cold brother, don't you?"

Mathias' jaw dropped. "No!"

"Hmm, well, all right." Emil turned with his macchiato, but before he exited the coffeehouse, he paused. "I'm not completely sure, but I think Lukas said he got coffee a few times with some guy in your grade...?"

"Who?" Mathias demanded, then mentally kicked himself for sounding so enthusiastic.

Emil looked exasperated. "I don't remember his name! You think I know all my upperclassmen? It was something like... Artie? Artie Chrisman? Chrisland?"

"Arthur Kirkland?" Mathias asked, his heart dropping.

"Yeah, that was it! Anyway, thanks for the macchiato. See you later," Emil called, walking out the door and leaving Mathias stunned.


	3. Chapter 3

_Arthur Kirkland?_

Mathias wasn't sure how to react. Okay, he hadn't been expecting that at all. He tried to recall everything he knew about his British classmate. Arthur was friends with that group of other kids—Francis Bonnefoy, Alfred Jones, and Matthew Williams—none of which Mathias knew that well, save for Alfred. He'd never really spoken to Arthur before, except once at a party in tenth grade when they'd both gotten drunk and toilet papered a tree in the Beilschmidts' front yard.

Lukas and Arthur. Arthur and Lukas. Mathias tried to picture them together, but it was like trying to imagine the sky as a different color. Had they even known each other before? How had this all happened?

Mathias picked the broom back up and continued to sweep, trying to calm the questions swirling through his mind.

What the hell?

* * *

"Hey, Gil. Look."

Gilbert closed his locker, turning when Antonio grabbed his arm. "What?"

Antonio jerked his chin, motioning down the hallway. Jeanne was chatting with Bella and Elizaveta, looking completely at ease.

"What?" Gilbert repeated.

"I heard she went for coffee yesterday with that Romanian guy in our English class."

"Vladimir?" Gilbert stared at Jeanne. "Wouldn't have ever predicted that. Seriously, though? It's only the second day of school, and she broke up with Francis, what, a week ago? And she's already going out with a different guy? Ouch."

Antonio agreed. "Yeah, and poor Francis." Antonio paused to consider something. "Hey, Gil! You've been single for a while. Anyone caught your eye?"

"No, you ass. It's only the second day. And we've met most these people already." They began to walk to class, and Gilbert looked over at Antonio. "What about you, you idiot? Huh? Who've you been looking at?"

Antonio turned red. "No one." The statement was pretty unconvincing.

Gilbert elbowed Antonio. "C'mon, Toni. Who is it? You gotta tell me."

"Okay, okay, fine! Keep your voice down. I—"

"Guys."

Antonio and Gilbert both turned at the same time to see Francis hurrying toward them. He looked worse than usual, but better than he did yesterday. There were dark circles under his eyes, but they were faint. At least he looked put-together.

"Morning...?" Antonio said slowly, his green eyes flickering with concern for his friend.

"I'm good, you two. Don't worry about me, okay? What were we talking about?"

 _Oh, God..._ Gilbert sighed. "Nothing." He glanced around the hallway quickly, noticing that Jeanne's little conversation group had broken up. Elizaveta had moved a little ways down the hall, where she was grabbing a few textbooks from her locker. "Um, I need to go... get the math assignment from Elizaveta. I'll be right back."

Gilbert hurried away. It was a cowardly move on his part, but to be completely honest, he couldn't deal with any more of Francis' drama. And if Francis found out about Vladimir and Jeanne, even if had just been a casual, friendly hangout... nope. Gilbert felt a little bad, but dammit, he couldn't spend all his time comforting Francis. It was time the man just got over it and moved on.

Hopefully Antonio and Francis didn't know that he and Elizaveta weren't even in the same math class!

"Hey, Liz," Gilbert called out.

Elizaveta turned and smiled. "Good morning! You look tired. Everything okay?"

Gilbert waved a hand. "Sure, sure, good. How about yourself? You're looking pretty bad these days." He jokingly studied Elizaveta's features and shook his head.

"You asshole," Elizaveta replied, but her voice held amusement. "Hey, you heard about Francis and Jeanne, right?"

"Ugh," Gilbert groaned. "I can't talk about this anymore."

The amusement returned to Elizaveta's voice. "Had a rough time, eh? Ah, well, that's fine. Hey, have you seen Matthew around this morning?"

"Who?"

"Gilbert." Elizaveta shot him a look.

"I... oh!" Gilbert remembered the encounter he'd had with his classmate at the Bonnefoys' yesterday. He'd sounded like a rude jerk, and Matthew had obviously noticed Gilbert gaping at him. Not that he'd meant to stare, of course, but Matthew had been quite...

"Aesthetically pleasing," Gilbert whispered.

"What?" Elizaveta asked, then rolled her eyes. "Are you still asleep or something? You're acting really weird."

Gilbert shook his head quickly, but not to express dissent. "I guess I'm just a little out of it today is all."

"Okay, well, I need to find Matthew. He has my math notes—"

"You two are friends?"

"Yeah, we actually ran into each other over the summer, did you know? At the bookstore. I've got a thing for underrated manga, and he's kinda into really pretentious French novels." She saw Gilbert's facial expression and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I could put in a good word for you if you'd like."

"Wh-what?" spluttered Gilbert, his cheeks turning red.

Elizaveta winked. "I know you think I'm stupid, but let's just say I spent enough of the summer reading cliché shōjo and tragically grandiose French romance to recognize the look in your eyes..."

* * *

The chemistry teacher turned out not to be the epitome of a perfect teacher, that much was clear. Day two and the whole class was watching a video. Well, sort of, as most people in the class were talking, sleeping, doing work for other classes, or wasting time in general.

Arthur was absentmindedly doodling on a spare sheet of notebook paper. Kiku Honda had one of his textbooks open and he was doing work. Lovino Vargas was scribbling away in a notebook.

Matthew tried to focus on the video, but it was about as exciting as doing the homework he needed to start on.

"Arthur," he whispered. "Are you friends with Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

Arthur looked up from his sketches. "Hmm? A little. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Matthew focused back on the old science film. That morning, he'd managed to find Elizaveta to return her notes, and she'd been with Gilbert. She'd made comments about how she thought he and Gilbert could be good friends. Though it was a bit rude, Matthew's first thought had been, _I don't think so._ Of course, he had only smiled and nodded and made halfhearted suggestions about hanging out sometime, but it was more out of courtesy than anything.

But Gilbert seemed slightly off. Some of his egotistical bravado was missing, and though Matthew suspected at least some of it was an act, it was still odd to see Gilbert so restrained. Probably just tired.

"You bastards talking about the potato bastard?" Lovino asked from across the table, setting down his notebook. Matthew's eyes flickered across the table, and he saw Lovino's surprisingly neat handwriting. Lovino was... Lovino was writing poetry.

"Hey! I didn't fucking ask you to read it," Lovino snapped, closing the notebook.

"If you're entitled to eavesdrop on our conversation, I think Matthew is allowed to glance at your notebook," Arthur replied sarcastically. "Anyway, neither of us speaks Italian, so it's not like we understand it. And yes, we are talking about Gilbert. Is there an issue?"

"I just hate that bastard," Lovino muttered, clicking his pen.

"Is there anyone in this universe you _don't_ hate?" Arthur exhaled loudly, making sure Lovino heard.

Lovino's head snapped up. "Listen here, asshole—"

"Oh, so you want to—"

"Okay, okay!" Matthew said, interrupting before the conflict could go any further. Shooting Kiku an exasperated look, he tried to calm Arthur and Lovino down. Lovino turned his focus away from Arthur and started at Matthew, entertainment glittering in his eyes. "Why are you asking about the potato bastard, eh?"

Matthew couldn't tell whether Lovino was _actually_ a mean person or if he just acted that way, but he was cautious. "It's really nothing. I was just talking to him this morning."

"Have you got a boyfriend?" Lovino smirked.

Matthew frowned. "Not at all, and please mind your own business." He said it very nicely, and in return, Lovino laughed very _meanly_.

"Look who's talking," Arthur snorted, immediately coming to Matthew's defense. "All he did was ask one question. But hey, have you ever wondered why you can't find a significant other? Why no one wants to be near you for longer than five seconds? Couldn't be your sunny personality, I know. Isn't it funny how Feliciano is your brother, but he's everything you're not?"

A flicker of hurt crossed Lovino's face, and in that brief second, Matthew knew Arthur had taken it too far, but the expression was gone before anyone else saw it. It was replaced immediately by anger, and Lovino let out a stream of curse words, then continued to write in his notebook.

The mood of the table was suffocating. Lovino had been out of place, but Arthur had also crossed a line. There was no way to say anything. Matthew absolutely could not focus on the video. Taking a cue from Lovino—who was glaring angrily at his notebook and writing faster than anyone Matthew had ever seen—he tried to write out some of his own poetry.

Matthew tried in both English and French, but he was no poet, and all the words sounded wrong.

He erased everything.


End file.
